49. Should We Really Have Dreams?

Bai Haonan had no idea he had already been betrayed by a traitor. As usual, he had dinner with a few of the single players and only then learned that among these highly educated intellectuals, there were men in their thirties or forties who had never married, and even some who had never been in love. When asked why they didn’t chase women, the one nicknamed “Enzyme” replied with a serious look of surprise, “Why must one fall in love? Relationships are so troublesome and time-consuming. I have so much important research to do. Football is my only hobby, just as Einstein liked playing the violin.”

Someone nearby snickered, pointing out that Einstein had women and children, too. Enzyme politely declined: “Football is better. It doesn’t mind me working overtime or living in the lab…”

Bai Haonan simply couldn’t understand what went on in these intellectuals’ minds—he couldn’t see why chasing women wasn’t a joy. He could only darkly guess that perhaps they were simply incapable in that area. So at these dinners, he really did act like a coach, mostly focusing on eating and seldom joining the conversation, not to mention he couldn’t understand their academic discussions anyway. After dinner, the scholars usually went back to their own labs, and he would start burning energy chasing girls.

He didn’t think there was any great difference in how people lived. In fact, he fancied himself the one living the happiest life—seize the day, live for the moment.

Tonight, he was taking Qiao Yingna to her training session. Most of the contestants in the singing competition were students or amateurs, many with other commitments during the day, and since they received almost no pay before the finals, all the training had to be scheduled in the evenings, from eight to ten. The location was once again the Aeronautics College in the university town, twenty kilometers away. Some contestants who took it seriously simply stayed at a hotel nearby.

Sister Mai, who worked at the TV station hosting the event, wasn’t in charge of this training segment—she would only show up at the final ten’s concert. The various phases in between were outsourced to local companies, with the organizers only remotely arranging promotional details and behind-the-scenes filming. Qiao Yingna’s spot as a “seed contestant” was all but confirmed; that didn’t guarantee a top ten finish, but she was at least a key focus, with personal storylines to be gradually introduced to gauge audience reaction. She was starting out ahead of most, yet from the moment she got in the car tonight, she hadn’t said a word, not showing a hint of excitement about her impending fame.

Bai Haonan was still bragging to her about his experience with intellectuals earlier, wondering if maybe they just didn’t know how to flirt, or perhaps after a few failures didn’t dare try anymore. With his life experience, it was hard to believe any man could truly be uninterested in such things—but he remembered there were always a few hopeless guys on the team who could never win a girl’s affection, not even with money. “I think maybe it’s all about talent…” he mused.

They had already merged smoothly onto the highway when Qiao Yingna finally spoke in a low voice: “I’m sorry, Old Nan. Today I told a police officer about you.”

Bai Haonan didn’t exactly tense up, but there was a slight change in his tone, and he quickly glanced into the rearview mirror to make sure there were no cars behind them as he started to pull over. “Oh?”

Singers are sensitive to tone, and she could clearly hear the coolness in those words, making her anxious. “You can’t blame me for everything! How was I supposed to know you’d gotten involved with a policewoman!”

By now, Bai Haonan had already stopped the car on the emergency lane, and her words startled him: “That tall policewoman with the surname Guo? Did you tell her everything? About my gambling, about the man who died?”

Qiao Yingna sounded so aggrieved she was on the verge of tears. “I don’t know her surname—she’s just really tall. I was scared at the time, but I didn’t say much. I just said you rent with me, that you coach football at the school, and mostly that you like chasing girls, that’s all!” In truth, she didn’t actually know much about Bai Haonan’s business.

Bai Haonan finally let out a long sigh and started driving again, his tone returning to normal. “You know my ID—Liu Hao—is fake. If the cops really want to check, they’ll find out in a heartbeat. Enough. To think I’ve been so good to you…” He slapped the steering wheel to show he was just a volunteer driver. That was his way—unless disaster was truly imminent, he rarely panicked. “Go home tonight and pack your things. Be ready to run at any time!”

Qiao Yingna was genuinely distressed. “I was just standing there watching you play, and she was watching too. How was I supposed to know she was a cop? She scared me and I blurted everything out—what’s going on?”

Bai Haonan gave her the simplest explanation: “Her boyfriend died in the line of duty. If her father dies too, that’s really tragic, but that’s her own business. I just say she hasn’t seen through people yet; she lives for others, always listening to this or that, no freedom, no fun at all.”

Qiao Yingna couldn’t help but scold him. “Don’t talk about people behind their backs like that! That’s real emotion. Her fiancé died in service—it’s easy to imagine what a devastating blow that is. It’s not so easy to walk away from that. Not everyone is as carefree as you. Most people value love and family above everything else. And she’s a civil servant—of course she has to mind her reputation.”

Bai Haonan boasted, “There’s no such thing as true love! It’s all just mutual use…”

Qiao Yingna was speechless. “I’m just a college student. I can’t out-argue you, a guy who’s been in the real world for a dozen, twenty years.”

Bai Haonan had his own twisted logic. “A woman says she loves you—try having no money in your pocket. A man says he loves you—bring up money with him. Your boss values you—try negotiating with him. Friends? Try borrowing money from them. Children’s filial piety? Never heard of a dutiful child at a sickbed for long. Even the most powerful officials, our footballers—once you retire, you’re nothing. This world is very realistic. Don’t talk about love. Sure, there are rare exceptions, but they don’t count. When I play football, I just look at the odds—the majority is what matters, and I act accordingly.”

Qiao Yingna quietly rested her chin on her knees, gazing into the rapidly darkening night outside. “I still believe there’s some real feeling in this world, just as I believe people need dreams. Haven’t you heard the saying? If a person doesn’t have dreams, what’s the difference between them and a salted fish?”

Bai Haonan let out a mocking laugh. “You think having dreams means you’re not a salted fish? You’ll still end up in someone else’s soup!”

Qiao Yingna didn’t seem to want to look at his mocking face. Besides, she couldn’t figure out how to argue with Bai Haonan’s extreme views. His hard-nosed realism seemed to speak the truth, leaving her speechless. She could only curl up in her seat, arms wrapped around her knees. Bai Haonan also fell silent. The car was quiet as night descended, and they arrived at the Aeronautics College.

But to Bai Haonan’s surprise, the evening was truly just a training session. The choice of the Aeronautics College was partly because it was remote and convenient for filming—the whole process was to be recorded for the reality show—and partly because the school provided professional etiquette instructors and facilities. Many contestants had never been on stage before and needed training in everything, even how to walk. Upon arrival, they were divided into groups to rotate through stage presence, etiquette, conversation, and some vocal coaching. It looked like a fair competition.

Qiao Yingna shot Bai Haonan a provocative glance. He smirked, saying he didn’t dare show up on camera, and went off to investigate the dorms of the future flight attendants. He wasn’t seen again until Qiao Yingna called him after training, and as she took his call, she could keenly detect a faint scent of unfamiliar perfume on him—utterly contemptible!

So, as September arrived, Bai Haonan’s fugitive days had stretched into nearly two months. Both staff football teams had grown increasingly cohesive and had begun playing practice matches against each other. They even started arranging games with the medical university’s student team. The results of training were clear—the sweat poured out over the summer hadn’t been wasted. The medical students, who weren’t particularly athletic, now struggled to match the two adult teams. The staff teams, who once found it hard to compete with twenty-year-old students, were thrilled, clamoring for the coach to arrange more matches against outside teams.

Bai Haonan stood restlessly on the sidelines. Ever since that day, the tall policewoman had often appeared at the edge of the field, sitting and watching him coach and play. According to the nurses, she visited her father in the hospital every afternoon, then dropped by the field on her way out.

Did police work leave her so much free time? Bai Haonan grumbled inwardly, then suddenly saw Qiao Yingna, dressed in a white lab coat, hurrying down the stadium steps beside the field in a panic. The way her upper body leaned so far forward made Bai Haonan instinctively feel that something was about to go wrong!

Sure enough, the fifth-year med student, who was never athletic, lost focus as she neared the last few steps and glanced up at Bai Haonan. She tripped, just about to tumble face-first down the stands. The policewoman sitting at the edge of the field sprang up and caught Qiao Yingna by the collar of her white coat!

It looked exactly like an eagle snatching a chick!

Bai Haonan suddenly felt a chill at the back of his neck.